


Say it With Your Hands

by karalovesallthegirls



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Crime Boss Lena / MMA Fighter Kara, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, MMA AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karalovesallthegirls/pseuds/karalovesallthegirls
Summary: Lena doesn’t take well to threats, and Kara Danvers? She’s a threat.





	1. all the games that you think that you're winning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the two week window between semesters so I'm trying to write as much as I can!!!! Here's an expanded take on my MMA AU posted on tumblr. Let me know if you like it or want to punch things.

Lena Luthor is not a dimwitted woman. 

She’s spent the last five years rebuilding their only somewhat illegal MMA fighting empire her brother so nearly destroyed, all while expanding the public business tenfold. Thanks to Lena, the newly relocated and renamed L Corporation has its claws in nearly every significant business and government operation in National City. She’s taken the name Luthor and made it feared again. Her father would be proud.

Lena Luthor is as sharp as they come, and as such it doesn’t take her long to see the signs of trouble brewing. Of course she notices when some new fighter starts making a name just as her inside source mentions rumors of a CatCo exposé in the works. Her brother would have laughed at the idea - why would they send in a girl to expose a male-dominated fight club? Thankfully, Lena is not her brother. She knows the power of a woman on a mission, and every week’s end her point is further made as the woman wins match after match.

She’d hoped the girl would be knocked out first round and the problem would solve itself, but apparently she’s quite the fighter. Some folks - some especially brave idiots - have started calling her Supergirl when they think no one important can hear.

Lena makes a point to always hear.

And after the public debacle that was Lex’s run-in with Clark Kent (Superman, as they’d called him during his two-year stint in the Metropolis fight scene), well. Lena isn’t taking any chances.

She tries the diplomatic approach, at first. She has some of her men meet the fighter in the parking lot after a bout and try to gentlypersuade her to stay away. They came back to her office with black eyes and bloody noses. She sends word through her sources that it is in CatCo’s best interest to _back off. _It’s a move she tries to avoid usually but hearing the term super thrown around sets her on edge enough to make big moves.

Despite receiving word that there is no story in the works, the fighter keeps showing up again and again, and every match brings them closer to the big final event - one that brings out the billionaires with a B, and the one Lena can’t afford to lose to some fame hungry Clark Kent wannabe. 

Now Lena is just angry.

So, she decides to solve the problem.

It takes very little effort to connect the dots and within a day she’s followed the trail from this new mystery fighter to one Kara Danvers, a rookie reporter one step above intern. She learns Miss Danvers spends her days crammed in a glorified coat closet writing obits and puff pieces, and at night she shows up at whatever location they’ve secured and beats the shit out of everyone, half of whom Lena has money riding on. Most importantly, her research tells her Miss Danvers isn’t even on assignment - the man they had assigned to the fight story lost his first round and had the whole story scrapped long before she’d demanded it. 

So no, Miss Kara Danvers is not an undercover spy acting on the orders of a superior; it seems to Lena that no one even knows of what she’s doing. Most likely she’s hoping an in-depth exposure piece will be her big break. Please. Lena would love to give her a big break, alright, maybe two.

Even so, Lena decides to give the woman one last chance. One out, before bones and careers are broken.

(Never say Lena isn’t a giver.)

* * *

It’s a testament to how powerful she’s grown over the years that the entire bullpen seems to freeze the moment she steps off the elevator. She can practically hear the collective gasp as everyone holds their breath, scared little rabbits watching the fox approach. She glides confidently through the space, the clack of her heels on tile the only sound. 

Only one man braves approaching her, a man she recognizes as acting CEO James Olsen. She can’t help the wicked smile she flashes, especially at his noticeable flinch. It’s always good to start at the top.

“Miss Luthor,” he says, slow and stunned, “I- did we have an appointment?”

“I’d like to speak to Kara Danvers,” she states. All at once there’s a noticeable murmur throughout the office. James visibly gulps, much to her satisfaction. 

“I don’t understand. Kara’s not- are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

Her head tilts ever so slightly, her right eyebrow raises. The look is calculated, piercing, and she can practically see the blood draining from the man’s face. 

“I’ll let her know you’re here,” he says, turning to head into his office, but Lena’s checked the layout of the building prior to arrival and she’s already turning to walk away.

“No need,” she calls over her shoulder as people dodge from her path, “I’ll let her know myself.”

* * *

She’d hoped the door would give a satisfying _bang! _against the plywood walling when she marched in, but unfortunately Kara Danvers’ office is jammed so fully the door can only swing halfway before bumping against a filing cabinet. 

Her momentum is jarred by this, her thoughts unintentionally jumping to fire codes and safety concerns, only for her to be even further frazzled by the cheery greeting called just out of view. Lena slides as gracefully as she can into the office, letting the door close behind her.

And there, crammed behind an overflowing pile of papers, is Kara Danvers.

“Gosh, hi there!” Kara says with a toothy grin so bright Lena squints in its shine. “James said you wanted to talk to me. It’s real neat of you to come out here just to see me!”

It actually takes Lena a moment to catch up to just what situation she’s found herself in, because the Kara Danvers she sees ducking over what is clearly an old storage unit converted into a desk looks nothing like the Supergirl fighter she’s watched with disdain over the last few months.

Lena’s stomach turns uncomfortably. This is the fighter who has been pounding her way through even the toughest of Lena’s men? She’s wearing a pastel cardigan, for fuck’s sake! Lena can see the collar of some twee blouse peeking out and she can’t tell from the distance but she’s pretty sure it has tiny pictures of dachshunds on it. Even her face seems off, though that might be from the glasses Lena’s never seen her wear. 

All in all, this is not the impression she anticipated, but Lena is always quick on her feet and in seconds she’s back. She stands taller, clinches her jaw, stares down at the smiley girl.

“Well, when I learned my newest star fighter was a _famous _reporter, I had to come meet her.”

Kara has the actual audacity to look pleased by this, an aw-shucks expression where Lena had assumed discomfort would be. Kara stands then and moves towards her, and Lena braces at once for a potential fight, but Kara just slides past her to a cruddy little coffee maker. 

“Well, I don’t know about famous reporter, but I am a pretty good fighter. Would you like some coffee?”

She’s met with just a quirked eyebrow, a move that should devastate. Kara seems unfazed and pours her a cup. Every single aspect of this encounter is throwing Lena for a loop. Kara hands her the coffee and asks if she’d like sugar, which at last kicks her into gear.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Lena says slowly, years of Luthor training bleeding into the menacing tone, and finally some control seems to come back as Kara meets her eyes. “But the games are over. You’ll throw the next fight, or not show up at all. You can pick which, but either way you’re done.”

Kara seems to consider this for a moment, then smiles. For the first time in this entire encounter, Lena can see the fighter in her eyes.

“No, I don’t think I will,” she says with a confidence that nowhere matches her manic pixie appearance. “I think I’m gonna keep fighting. And if you don’t get better fighters, I think I’m gonna keeping winning.” 

She steps closer to her, nearly toe to toe, each staring deeply into the other’s eyes. Lena scoffs in amused disbelief, shakes her head, speaks low and dangerous,

“You’ll eat those words, Kara Danvers.”

Kara smiles, shrugs, speaks slow in return,

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she steps back at that and her smile brightens, her voice back to that jovial level, “Well, this has been real nice, but I’ve got a piece on local flora that’s calling my name, so. Thanks for stopping by! It’s real nice to finally meet you!” 

Kara offers her hand which Lena doesn’t even acknowledge. She just continues to stare into her eyes unflinchingly. Slowly, she tilts her hand to the side to allow the coffee Kara had just given her to spill out on to the cheap carpeted floor. It drags on for nearly fifteen seconds, after which she presses the now empty cup into Kara’s still extended hand. At that she turns to leave, her ponytail slapping across Kara’s face.

Good. The slap she’s too professional to give.

She ignores Kara Danvers’ goofy little smile she sees reflecting on the metallic filing cabinet and slouches through the hazardous door as domineeringly as she can.

* * *

Nothing changes at first.

Kara keeps fighting and, worse still, she keeps winning. Kara Danvers has worked her way up in the fight scene – she’s no longer sparring in back alley gyms or unused parking garages. With every win she gains entry into the next highest venue, the next highest opponent.

The rumblings around her are intensifying, and at this point any moves to take her out would bring more scrutiny than Lena wants this late in the game. It’s too late now to derail the Supergirl train. They aren’t hiding the nickname any longer, either – they chant _Sup-er-girl! Sup-er-girl! _as she knocks out another, then another, then another.

Every single time she’ll stand there amidst their cheers, breathing hard and barely bruised, and she’ll find Lena’s eyes in the crowd.

Lena is really starting to hate Kara Danvers.

* * *

Lena escalates. 

To win against a challenge, you need as much information as you can get, and she seems to lack any. Who is Kara Danvers? Where did Kara Danvers come from? How does someone come out of nowhere and fight at that level? It doesn’t make sense. 

So, she does the only rational thing she can do and has Kara followed.

They follow her to work in the morning, watch her go eat far too much lunch for one person at a local café, watch her skip back to work. They follow her home – or try to, at least. Kara will turn down a street unexpectedly and vanish. No matter how quickly they try to catch up with her, every single time they turn the corner themselves she’s gone. She sends more people and they all report the same things: her day is heavily structured until she leaves work, at which point she will always shake her tail. Sometimes she won’t reappear until morning; sometimes she shows up five hours later to a fight. No one knows where she goes or how she does it.

Lena knows her people aren’t incompetent – they wouldn’t be her people if they were – yet she still struggles to accept that Kara Danvers is really that difficult to track. The woman wears pastel prints; she doesn’t exactly blend in to the crowd. It doesn’t make sense to Lena, so can she really be blamed for eating her lunch one day at the same local café as Kara does? Can anyone truly find her at fault for watching Kara from afar as she talks animatedly with the waitress about how Kara’s button-up is covered in tiny dolphins jumping over rainbows? That same passion she exhibits in her fighting is apparent in her gestures, in the way her face lights up when the waitress rolls up her sleeve to show her her dolphin tattoo.

Lena watches with disdain as Kara takes a thumbs-up selfie next to the woman’s arm.

For fuck sake. This is one of the top fighters in National City.

She isn’t even entirely sure why she’s here. She knows where Kara will be, knows Kara goes back to work after this. There’s no reasonable reason for why Lena wanted to watch her beyond the pull she is feeling, has been feeling, deep inside her since she first met the fighter. There’s just something about Kara Danvers that digs deep into her skin. 

Finally, after another agonizing twenty minutes of dolphin discussion, Kara gathers her leftovers and takes off. Lena trails behind at a safe distance, sunglasses and venti latte blocking her face. She watches Kara walk to the CatCo entrance and stop, thoughtful, before walking past it.

Lena’s heart quickens at the sight.

Kara walks with slow but confident steps for another two blocks and Lena follows close behind. It’s thrilling, and idiotic, and she has to know where this will end. Kara turns suddenly. Lena finds herself running after her like a fool. She takes the turn fast and sure enough, Kara’s gone, except – there, just off to the left she can see the back of that terrible button-up disappearing down an alley.

She slows down as she approaches it, watches Kara slinking deeper into the darkness and around another corner. Her skin is buzzing, heart racing, everything inside of her screams that this is a trap. 

Like a doomed sailor seduced to the siren’s rock, she follows behind. 

She steps around the corner Kara just turned only to find it leads to a dead end. The alley is empty, just three walls and a dumpster. Somehow, Kara has vanished. It makes no sense.

“First my office, now here,” Kara says then from directly behind her. _Fuck, how did she- _“I’m starting to think you like me, Miss Luthor.” 

She turns and finds Kara standing cocky in her rainbow dolphin button-up, blocking the alley’s exit. She should have listened to her instincts.  
  
“Just wanted to say hello,” Lena says, taking a step to her right. Kara doesn’t move to block her. She takes another step. “Been awhile since we spoke. Wanted to see if you were ready to drop out.”  
  
Kara laughs at that, says,

“Thanks for checking in, but no. I’ve decided I’m going all the way.”

It’s said so light-heartedly even as it makes Lena’s heart race.  
  
All the way could only mean one thing – Kara wants to make it to the final showdown fight; the one Lena has carefully been building towards. The annual event that seemingly died down with Lex’s arrest only for Lena to revive it this year, when the greatest fighter in her circuit fights the greatest fighter from the only other fight scene in town – Roulette’s. In the past, Lex would fly his fighter in from Metropolis for the fight. It’s a multi-million-dollar event hosted by Veronica Sinclair herself, and Lena needs it to go as well as it possibly can. For that to happen, Kara Danvers _cannot _be her fighter.

“Not sure that’s your decision to make,” she says with barely concealed anger, stepping in close. She is just an inch taller than Kara with her heels on, yet still Kara seems to tower.

Kara smirks, and holds her hands up so that Lena can see the fading bruises and cuts.  
  
“I dunno. It kinda is,” she says.

“I wouldn’t get too cocky, _Supergirl. _I don’t see you lasting much longer.”

It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and the words burn in her throat. Anything ‘super’ brings back terrible memories. 

Kara makes a face.

“Hey, why is it that I’m Supergirl when he got to be Superman? I’m a way better fighter than him.”   
  
Lena’s fingers twitch. No one has dared to say that name around her in months, not after all the hell they went through. For Kara Danvers to acknowledge that comparison, the connection, between her and Clark Kent—

Lena feels anger close tight around her chest like a coiling snake.

“Well now, I don’t know if I’d say that,” she sneers. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Kara just smiles at her, which only infuriates her further.

“I am. I know I am.”

“You speak with a lot of confidence. Close friend of yours?”  
  
“We’ve met.”  
  
Cryptic. Concerning. Lena takes another step, then another.  
  
“You know, Superman almost destroyed my family-”  
  
“Pretty sure your brother is the one who did that.”

“-and I wonder, if you’re such a close friend of his, if you aren’t here to finish the job.”  
  
Lena circles around Kara like a panther ready to pounce. Kara looks only concerned, eyes shining with something disturbingly close to sincerity.  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you, Lena,” she says. Lena laughs.  
  
“Really?” she drawls, “You wouldn’t be the first. I know people weren’t exactly thrilled to have a Luthor in National City.”

“You are not your brother.”  
  
“You don’t know me.”  
  
“Not yet,” Kara says, edge of her lip quirking up. “But I know enough.”

It’s too much. The walls of the alley seem to be closing in, trapping her with the garbage and sewage and too-familiar smile of an enemy.  
  
Lena leaves. Kara doesn’t move to stop her, doesn’t move to give her space.

Their fingers brush as she walks past.

* * *

Lena buys the latest CatCo issue. There’s an article on what cut of pants are in this season. A small news piece discussing the rising rate of human trafficking on the west coast. A collection of terrible sex tips people tried and failed. And finally, buried under all the articles of significance, is one small paragraph with the byline of KARA DANVERS.

_The flowers of National City are in full bloom_, she writes, _and so is the spirit of our great town._

Lena throws it in the trash.

* * *

The next fight night Kara finds Lena’s eyes before she starts, nods. Destroys every one of her opponents. 

It isn’t even a contest.

She fights four people and takes each one out within the first minute. The last one takes a few minutes, but Lena realizes it’s on purpose when she sees Kara throw a devastating punch to the face, then pause, reset, and throw it again – slower. Her opponent barely blocks it, and Kara grabs his hand to hold it higher. Lena realizes then. She’s showing him what she did and how he could have blocked it. The difference in skill level is so devastatingly wide it’s like watching a teacher training a student.  
  
Supergirl is the name on everyone’s lips for the rest of the week. She moves further up the chain, closer to the big season ending match.

Lena makes a few calls and has Ben ‘the Reactron’ Krull on a plane within a day.

She has a bouquet of black roses sent to Kara’s office.

* * *

“Folks, tonight is gonna be one for the history books,” her announcer calls, quieting the rambunctious room. Word on the street has been hyping this match up all week, so the room is packed with all sorts just waiting to watch a beat down.

“We have the most iconic match up in National City history tonight,” he continues, “Coming in left we have our favorite up-and-comer, Supergirl!”

It’s the first time they’ve used that title for her officially and most of the crowd loses it. They cheer and scream, stomping their feet as Kara Danvers hops into the ring. Even still, some people remain quiet, look to Lena with nervous eyes. They wonder if this is a trap or trick. Kara seems surprised by the name, but otherwise doesn’t show anything beyond excitement. Lena remains neutral.

“And coming in right we’ve got a real surprise for you folks, a long-lost warrior risen from the grave, coming all the way from Metropolis, the greatest of the great, two-time national champion – _Reeeeactron_!”  
  
Gasps ripple through the crowd, applause scattered and mixed with murmuring. Even Supergirl looks taken aback. Everyone knows the story of Superman’s Metropolis domination, how every fighter he faced fell under his fists. Everyone knows that the only fighter who ever came close to winning was the great machine himself, ‘Reactron’ Ben Krull. After the Lex debacle, he’d dropped off the map for a while. “Retired.”

When Lena told him there was a new kid on the block connected to Clark Kent calling themselves a super, well. He decided retirement could wait.

“I was told our Supergirl is stronger than Superman. A better fighter, even.”  
  
People boo and people cheer and all of their commotion fades into white noise. All she can see is Kara Danvers watching her with hesitant eyes. _Not so cocky now, _she thinks, and smiles.

“Well,” he continues, “Let’s see for ourselves just how strong she can be.”

And with that the bell sounds, they tap their fists, and they fight.

* * *

It is immediately clear how different this fight will be from all of Supergirl’s past bouts.

She tries that light-footed style she’s known for: quick steps, jumps around her opponent’s jabs, staying always just out of reach, but Reactron seems to see through her technique immediately. Within seconds he catches her in the air mid-leap. Snaps her right leg over his knee. Slams her down hard.

The sound of her breath being knocked from her lungs meshes with the gasps of her audience. 

Lena expects it to be fast after that.

Superman could never beat Reactron in all his time fighting – every match was a draw. Surely this nobody will fall quickly. Better still is how much the crowd is loving this, cheering out screams as Supergirl struggles to block any shots at all. They revel in the blood spattering across the cage.

Kara gets back to her feet unexpectedly during a momentary pause. Her right leg gives out, she stumbles. She pulls herself back up and leans heavily on her left, fists raised.

It isn’t fast. 

She takes a hit, then returns it just as hard. Their shirts are soaked equally in sweat and blood. Her athletic body shines through the skin-soaked material; Lena can see every muscle ripple as she moves. As she takes him down. 

What was a surefire defeat starts to shift with every blow exchanged until it’s Reactron on his knees, his arms raised in a desperate defense. Supergirl steps heavy into her punches. Her fist cracks against his skull and, moments later, his skull cracks against concrete.

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

She stands there above him with beaten bloody fists, her shaking muscles glistening in the limelight. The crowd chants her name, people fall over each other in their excitement over what they have witnessed. Supergirl’s eyes find Lena’s in the crowd and she smiles red.

* * *

Lena follows the trail of blood droplets after the fight until she finds Kara sitting on a bench just down the hall, eyes closed and head resting against the wall behind her. She can see the way her muscles clench, how she squeezes and releases her grip. Even beaten raw under the terrible florescent lighting Kara practically glows.

It’s infuriating. 

“Some performance out there,” she says, and Kara cracks an eye open. The other seems swollen shut. She smiles, her teeth stained red.

“Miss Luthor,” she says with delight, “I’m glad you liked it.”  
  
“I didn’t say that.”

She continues like Lena said nothing.

“I have to say, I’m touched. You flew him all the way here just for me. You really do like me.”

“I definitely didn’t say that,” Lena gives her a once over, “You look like hell.”  
  
“You should see the other guy.”  
  
“I did. You really let him have it.” 

“Perhaps you need to find better fighters.” 

A thought that’s been simmering within her for weeks now bubbles up, bubbles out.

“Perhaps I’ve already found one. Why not come work for me?”  
  
If you can’t beat them, recruit them. If Kara Danvers has to be her star fighter, it’s significantly better that she be under Lena’s control than acting freely. Kara stares at her like she’s assessing her, then shakes her head.

“No thanks. I already have a job. This is just a hobby.”

“A very profitable hobby.”

“I’m not here for money, Miss Luthor.”

“Than what are you here for?”

Kara smiles, then flinches and touches her head with reddened fingers.

She doesn’t know why she does it. Why she says, “Let me see,” and then reach for Kara. Why she grabs a small gym towel from a nearby stack.

Lena holds Kara’s chin in her hands, tilts her face up. With the gentlest pressure she slowly drags the cloth down Kara’s cheek, drags it under her nose, down over her lips. Kara’s mouth opens against her movement. Her bottom lip falls open under the pressure, pulled down by it. Kara’s tongue darts to swipe at her teeth, brushing the cloth. Kara’s eyes never leave hers.

She pulls away.

“Well,” she says, and much to her horror her words sound flustered. “Here’s hoping your next fight isn’t so lucky, then." 

Kara smiles.

* * *

Lena’s in the gym office when there’s a knock at her door. A delivery driver holds a bag and drink out and says, “Lena Luthor?”  
  
It’s a Big Belly Burger combo meal and a note that says, “Didn’t eat my words, but figured you might be hungry. XOXO Supergirl.”

Lena throws the bag hard enough for it to explode, raining fries and grease down her wall.

(She drinks the milkshake. Everyone has their weaknesses).

* * *

Their next encounter is a surprise for them both.

Every year, Roulette hosts a gala to ostensibly raise funds for some local charity while actually giving all the wealthy of National City a chance to show off and show up one another. Its hours spent in a room full of peacocking show-boaters and Lena would rather shave off her eyebrows than spend even a minute with any of them.  
  
Sadly, that was not an option she was allowed to choose. Instead she had to smile, and wear a revealing dress, and count the hours ticking by, and she would have done exactly that if she hadn’t spotted the biggest thorn in her side.

“Looking a little rough today, Miss Danvers,” she greets, interrupting the other woman just as she is enthusiastically telling some story while simultaneously stuffing a deep-fried shrimp into her mouth.

Her audience of two – James Olsen and some wiry little man -- all look at Lena and immediately blanche at the sight of her, which is comforting. At least someone here recognizes her for the threat she is. Kara gives her a chipmunk-cheeked smile, chewing aggressively while nodding. One of the men in her entourage speaks then, saying nervously,

“Yeah, Kara, are you okay? I didn’t want to say anything, but-” he gestures to what everyone surely noticed by now – namely, the massive black eye and busted lip she was sporting. Swallowing loudly, Kara says,

“Oh, I’m fine! I just – fell. Into a door.”

She stuffs another two pieces of shrimp back into her mouth like she was embarrassed by her own answer and wanted to stall. 

“How very clumsy,” Lena chastises, reveling in the look Kara gives her. How satisfying it is to know something Kara does not want others to know. She turns her eyes on the group, all still staring at her with fear. “Where are my manners – hello, I’m Lena Luthor.”  
  
The man who spoke before nods, reaches a hand out like she’d shake it, then pulls it back awkwardly.  
  
“Yes, I know! I mean, I – I’m Winn, I work at CatCo with Kara. It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
She smirks, then nods to James Olsen who, for his part, at least doesn’t look like he’s two seconds away from passing out.

“So, what brings three of CatCo’s finest to a party like this? Here for Roulette’s charity?”  
  
“Absolutely! I mean I am all about supporting—” he reads from the gala program, “--human trafficking! I uh … Wait, that’s not-”  
  
“What Winn is trying to say,” James Olsen cuts in, “Is we are happy to support charity work.”  
  
“And free food,” Kara adds sagely.

Not for the first time, Lena wonders how her life veered so off track so as to be having this conversation in the first place. Stranger still is how she can’t seem to stop herself from smiling. 

They are interrupted then as a woman approaches and places a hand on Kara’s arm protectively, eyeing Lena like a threat.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, “Got caught up at work.”  
  
She speaks to Kara but her eyes stay locked on Lena. Kara seems unphased by the stare down, however, and just loops an arm around her waist.  
  
“That’s okay! I’m just glad you’re here now!”  
  
Lena stares at where Kara’s hand grips the other woman. All at once this conversation feels less amusing.

“Well. I think it’s time I make my rounds. Excuse me,” and she escapes.

* * *

She ends up in the bathroom staring into her own reflected eyes wondering what on Earth was wrong with her. Nothing was happening, nothing at all, yet her heart is racing. Ridiculous, unnecessary. Embarrassing.

After giving herself another few minutes to regain some semblance of control, she finally decides to venture back into the gala. Kara is waiting in the hall for her. Lena moves to stand beside her, leaning back against the wall. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” she says, and the jovial girl eating shrimp seems to be gone. She moves then, turning to face Lena and bracketing her arm beside Lena’s head. “I don’t exactly want everyone in the world to know what I do in my spare time.”

Her closeness makes Lena’s face burn. Lena ignores the obvious way she flexes her bicep, how the muscle’s shadows are so clear in the dim hall lights.  
  
“Not my fault you keep secrets,” she says, “does your girlfriend know where you sneak off to at night?”

Her words come out defensive, harsh. She hates herself for it. Kara just looks confused.  
  
“What girlfriend?” 

Lena makes a gesture towards the gala, not trusting herself enough to speak. That feeling worsens when she sees the smirk on Kara’s face.  
  
“Do you mean Alex?” she asks, and Lena’s lip sneers a bit at the name. Kara laughs, “Alex is my sister. Definitely not my girlfriend.” Again, a visible arm flex, followed by, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”  
  
It relieves and infuriates, and Lena tries not to show either on her face. Instead she just huffs, rolls her eyes, and says, “in your dreams, Supergirl.”

Lena ducks very purposefully under Kara’s arm then and struts away. If she put a little more emphasis on the swinging of her hips it’s just because of the tightness of her dress, nothing more. Nothing else.  
  
Faintly, she can hear Kara say, “you got that right,” and Lena realizes at once that she’s let this all go on for too long now.

Lena’s had enough of these games. She’s ready to finish this. 

She needs to get rid of Kara Danvers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how underground MMA fighting empires work.


	2. just gotta get you alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up for Lena and Kara

“I have,” she pauses to carefully consider each word, “a situation. A… _problem_ that I’m not sure how to deal with.”  
  
Veronica Sinclair, for her part, looks absolutely elated by the subject change. She had seemed so bored with Lena this entire meal (despite it being _she_ who invited _Lena_ here in the first place) so for her to so quickly shift from disengaged to enthralled is quite frankly insulting. They’ve sat in this stuffy country club for thirty minutes politely nibbling on hors d'œuvres while talking without saying much at all. Lena assumed she was invited there to discuss the upcoming fight, or _something_, but all Veronica has done is ask vague questions and give even vaguer answers. This Lena-focused subject change has awakened their otherwise stiff meeting. Annoying.  
  
“Do tell,” Veronica practically purrs in anticipation, leaning in close. “You know I love solving problems.”

Lena hadn’t planned on saying anything about her situation and certainly not to Veronica, but her thoughts had weighed heavy for so long now that she feels like if she doesn’t say something to someone she’ll burst. And of course, the one person she ever talked to about these sorts of things is the one person she can’t speak to at all. Life is so much harder without Lex, even while being harder because of him. She tries not to dwell.

Instead, she tells Veronica about Kara. How they call her Supergirl, how she came from nowhere and fights like a hellcat. How hard Lena has worked to get rid of her with no luck. She describes the cocky smile she gives Lena after each fight, the way she stands fearless in the face of her fury. The terrible little laugh she does anytime Lena speaks. 

“So,” Veronica drawls once Lena’s rant had ended, “you’re fucking her then?” 

She smirks at the near spit-take Lena does with the bourbon she had been sipping. A few other patrons of the club send them displeased looks.  
  
“No, I’m not-” she lowers her voice after making eye contact with a particularly ornery patron, “I’m not _fucking_ her. I’m trying to get rid of her, please do keep up.”  
  
Veronica cackles.

“Why? It sounds like she’s a real firecracker, and the way you talk about her tells me she’s beautiful. If you can’t beat her, why not bone her?”

They are definitely getting looks now, and Lena does her best to contain the redness she feels creeping across her skin. 

“While I know that method has always worked wonders for you, I’d rather not sink to that level,” she snips. “Besides, I’m fairly sure doing that would feel like a win to her anyway.”

“I’d say a good fuck is a win for everyone involved,” Veronica replies way too loudly for such a quiet room. Lena is fairly certain if they weren’t the richest women in the room they would be asked to leave.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is our big fight night. I don’t want this unknown on my team.”

Surprisingly, Veronica gives Lena a strangely sympathetic look. 

“Lena, darling, you know our big fight night isn’t _really _about the fight, right? It doesn’t matter who your fighter is. The real money is made behind the scenes.”

There’s always something about the way Veronica looks at Lena, like she’s sizing her up and searching for some answer Lena doesn’t quite have. They’ve known each other since they were school girls, yet she’s always felt like she never really knew what was going on with her. There’s always an undercurrent of conversation she’s not quite catching.  
  
“I realize that,” she says. “It’s silly, I know it is, but there are just so many unknown factors with her. And it’s the first big fight since Lex, so- I want it to be perfect.”  
  
Veronica places a hand atop Lena’s, unusually gentle.

“I’m serious, Lena. She’s nothing, why are you working yourself up over her?”

Lena doesn’t quite know how to answer that. It doesn’t feel like nothing, thinking of Kara Danvers.

Veronica spends the rest of their meal discussing increasingly more elaborate and illegal ways to get rid of Kara, and by the end of it, Lena is almost beside herself with laughter. It’s nice, genuinely, and the smile Veronica gives her is comforting in a way she hasn’t felt in ages.

Lena feels lighter when she finally starts preparing to leave, so much lighter until Veronica reaches to stop her.

“There’s one thing I need to ask you. About Lex,” Veronica says with a sympathetic expression. “I wasn’t sure how to ask.”  
  
Lena sits back down hard, knocking the breath out of herself. White-knuckles the seat.  
  
“Well, go on. Ask it.”  
  
“Your brother and I had worked on these fight nights for years together, and he kept some of the records for our donors. I’m trying to contact everyone I can for the fight, but without his notes I’m hitting a wall. Do you know what he did with his little black book?”

It’s said so lightheartedly, and yet Lena can feel an almost palpable tension. She shifts uncomfortably.

“He destroyed most of it before his arrest,” she says, “I don’t know that there’s really anything left.”

The jovial air of their earlier talk has evaporated. Lena feels the weight as always, heavy and darkened by the shadow her brother so generously cast.

“Your brother was always good at keeping secrets. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a secret copy of his black book somewhere. Please, Lena- if you find it, let me know.”

Lena nods, then rises to leave. Her mind buzzes with thoughts of Lex and secrets, of Kara Danvers and her damn smile. She makes it a few steps away before Veronica calls her back and, oh, Veronica is holding her purse out to her. Somehow, she’d forgotten it - something she rarely ever does, as she usually places it beside her rather than on the floor. Her mind truly is scattered these days.  
  
She grabs it from Veronica gratefully and once again moves to leave. 

“Oh, Lena?” Veronica calls again once Lena is fully across the room, her voice loudly catching attention from some of the middle-aged white men mingling about, “for your fighter – why not try fucking her?”

Veronica’s laugh rings out behind Lena as she rushes away.  
  


* * *

  
She finds Kara Danvers’ gym.  
  
It’s surprisingly challenging, and it required Lena to pull a few more strings than she usually would have liked to pull to find it. Not too many, not an illegal amount – just enough. Lena focuses a great deal of energy on walking that careful line of legality. She is determined to break the Luthor tradition of prison sentences, and to do that she must strive to be as clean as possible. If she has to make unethical decisions, she ensures that none of the roads lead back to her.  
  
So, she finds her gym. 

She’s not sure what she expected; maybe a world class trainer, maybe a higher caliber of equipment. Anything that might explain where such a dynamic fighter came from.

What she finds is a glorified storage unit with a single barbell, a handful of weights, and a punching bag that’s met one too many fists.

She doubts anyone actually pays money to utilize the space other than Kara Danvers, and even that seems like a rip-off. When she arrives, she half expects to find it abandoned and empty, another dead end in her quest to understand the world’s most annoying fighter.  
  
Still, when approaching an enemy one must always be prepared: Lena struts into the shabby sweat shack in her best black dress that clings tight and revealing in all the right places and heels that could kill a man (both metaphorically and literally - she has knives hidden in the soles). She’s even wrapped herself up in a feathery boa, looking all the part of the wealthy socialite she so often has to be. She wants every person who sees her to desire her and feel inadequate at the same time. She walks with a confidence that creates waves in every crowd she’s in, and she focuses all that energy here in this terrible little place. And ridiculously, the only person there to witness it is Kara Danvers herself.  
  
“Miss Luthor! How nice to see you!” she greets in surprise, taking out one of her earphones. She’s been pounding away at that sad sack of a punching bag, her arms and chest glistening in their exertion. She’s wearing long sweat pants rolled at the waist, a tank top that clings in damp patches to her skin. A smile that’s a little too wide for someone facing an unexpected visit from a Luthor.  
  
“I’m sure. You know, when I found Supergirl’s secret hideaway I always assumed it would be-” she walks along the weight rack, dragging a finger across the barbell with disdain. “- Impressive. Something to match the girl herself.” 

Kara’s still grinning at her like she’s actually being nice. Lena rubs her fingers together in disgust, the grime she’s picked up from the equipment visible in one chalky smudge. Lena makes a full, slow circuit around the room, around Kara.  
  
“I’ve never been one for fancy things,” Kara says, arms crossed confidently. Lena can see the muscle definition even in the simple gesture. “A bag and some weights do me just fine.”  
  
Lena steps into her space with a smirk, then grips the front of the other woman’s shirt and rubs the grime into the fabric between her fingertips. The movement pulls Kara’s shirt away even further, revealing the dark sports bra she wears beneath, the damp skin of her chest and stomach. 

“I’m surprised your coach doesn’t have you in nicer gear,” she says, her eyes tracing slowly back up Kara’s body until they meet hers. The girl, for once, looks a bit flustered. “Reaching such a high ranking in the Luthor fight scene is an honor, you know. One that warrants a few _fancy _things.”  
  
“I don’t think he’d agree with that sentiment, which is why he doesn’t know,” Kara says, low and close. Lena can feel her breath against her temple – when did they get so close? – and she finds herself stepping back in genuine surprise.

“Your coach doesn’t know you’re fighting in my scene?”  
  
Kara turns then to hit the punching bag like she can actually somehow focus on something other than Lena in this moment. As if Lena would let her.

“It’s not his choice where I fight,” she says grumpy, genuinely pouting like a child scorned. Lena’s blown away.  
  
“Your sister doesn’t want you in my scene, your coach didn’t even know. Nothing about you makes sense to me. Why are you doing this, Kara Danvers? Are you writing about me?”  
  
Kara laughs, punches the bag hard with a new vigor as the conversation they dance around surfaces again.

“Not anymore,” Kara says, and she sounds so honest Lena almost believes her. “I thought there was a story there, but there wasn’t. Just you. And I realized I actually quite like you.”

Lena can see the sweat fly as she hits again and again. She finds herself swallowing thickly.  
  
“I have never done anything to make you like me.”  
  
Kara stops hitting at that. Finally, Lena has her full attention.  
  
“That’s not entirely true. You always look at me a kind of way,” her eyes drag slowly down Lena, touching her lips and her neck, dragging from her collarbone to hips. “I like that.”  
  
“I look at you the way I would a mutt on the street. Like something sad and in need of house training,” Lena snarls back weakly. Kara’s smile shines dark and cocky in the sterile gym lighting.  
  
“Am I your dog then, Miss Luthor?” she steps in closer. “Do you want to train me?”

Kara reaches a tentative hand out and Lena can feel the ghost of her touch. Like a vision, she can see where this will lead – how Kara will hold her, press her lips to her body, press her against the wall. _Why not just fuck her?_ the little Veronica Sinclair in her brain chirps.

She stops Kara with a rough grip around her wrist just inches before she reaches her face. A grip that holds her fingertips just barely away from skin, so close she can almost feel the caress.  
  
“Your hands are disgusting, Kara Danvers, and I’m wearing Gucci.”  
  
She can hear Kara’s breathy laugh echoing after her as she struts away.  
  


* * *

  
Time is ticking on and the upcoming finale grows ever realer.

Coordinating such an event takes massive amounts of focus and mental stamina, and Lena finds herself throwing every spare moment she can into planning. When she isn’t required to be at whatever fight is happening, she’s planning. If she’s awake, she’s planning. For a brief, beautiful period of time, her mind is so occupied by the upcoming event that she almost entirely forgets about the existence of Kara Danvers.

Of course, such blissful scenarios can never last forever.  
  


* * *

  
Lena isn’t even on the floor when it happens. She’s up in her office crunching the numbers to make sure they’re good for the month when an uproar calls her to the main hall.

She walks quickly, her heels tip-tapping against the cement as she mentally considers what might be happening – a cop raid, a weapon drawn, a death.  
  
What she finds is a group of fighters huddled around someone laughing hysterically even while an alarming amount of blood drips down her leg.  
  
“Kara Danvers,” Lena drawls. “I should have known.”  
  
For her part, Kara seems unaffected by her injury, still just laughing away. Apparently, she’d knocked out her opponent in a devastating combo and then immediately tripped over his unconscious body, scratching off a good chunk of the skin across her kneecap. That is the funniest thing to ever happen to her, Lena assumes, considering how hard she’s still laughing.  
  
“Get her up,” Lena orders, and two of her men move to scoop Kara up off the ground. They carry the still laughing woman back into the building to their ‘clinic’, a multipurpose junk room that also happens to have a first aid kit. They prop her against a table and Kara takes the initiative to pull herself up on it, legs kicking happily. She dismisses the men with a handwave, staring down at Kara who, thankfully, has tapered off her laughter into a few teary-eyed chuckles.  
  
“God, Miss Luthor,” Kara says in a chuckle. “I was doing so good. I knocked him flat out, one hit! And I thought ‘wow, I must look so cool right now.’ I felt so cool.” She wipes a tear from her eye, laughing still. “And then just like that – _wham!_– fell flat on my ass. Just, hit the deck. It was so bad.”

Her story has her laughing all over again and Lena tries her best not to laugh along, instead focusing on opening the first aid kit and pulling out an antibacterial wipe.  
  
“Wow,” she drawls, ripping the packet open. “You really are a massive loser, huh.”

She should hand the wipe to Kara and let her handle herself. Should have one of her men in here doing this for her. Instead, she takes a seat in an office chair and rolls it over. She takes the wipe and presses it gently against the scrape, which thankfully had stopped its bleeding. Kara hisses slightly, but she’s still smiling.  
  
“Yeah, I kinda am,” she says with the absolute dopiest grin.

Lena avoids looking at it, instead focusing on cleaning the blood away. The cut isn’t so bad now that she can see it. It just bled a lot. She gets lost in the motion of rubbing, her focus intently on Kara’s knee that is so close to her face (and not at all the woman’s groin which, she realizes with a stomach tumble, is just as close). Once the blood was sufficiently cleared, she goes to grab some antiseptic.  
  
“I like your trophy,” Kara says, and Lena has to look up to the shelf she’s pointing at to even understand what the hell she’s talking about. Once she sees, though, she finds herself laughing bitterly.  
  
“Yes, that’s a world’s best sister trophy Lex gave me right before they carted him off to jail. Said it was a thank you for saving our business.” 

Lex will always be her sore spot. She knows this, and she hates herself for it. Kara smiles softly at her as if sensing her discomfort, says,  
  
“Jeez, if I’d known about that I would have entered my sister in the running. No offense to you, but I think her wearing the back half of a horse costume two Halloweens in a row might make her number one.”  
  
This somehow actually gets a laugh out of Lena, which only makes Kara grin harder.  
  
“Well, I suppose I can’t compete with an ass.”  
  
It makes her feel fuzzy inside that Kara actually laughs at her joke, a feeling she quickly shoves back down inside. She doesn’t like Kara. She shouldn’t be humoring her like this.  
  
“This is a weird room,” Kara says after another beat. “It’s like a storage unit threw up in here.”  
  
Lena gives her her most withering look and gets a grin in response.  
  
“This is where all our extras end up. Extra bandages, extra hard drives. Extra whiskey.”  
  
Kara whistles.  
  
“Now that’s my language you’re speakin’. Why didn’t we start with that?”  
  
“I don’t think us drinking together would be a very good idea,” Lena says, earning a rough laugh.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Kara says, slow and low, “you worried you might lose some inhibitions around me?”

“Mmmhmm. I might get drunk enough to actually kill you.”  
  
This gets another deep laugh from Kara, who yet again does not recognize the threat that she is.  
  
“Well you’re being awfully tender right now for someone who wants to kill me,” Kara says in that low voice she used that night in her gym. The voice that had played out in Lena’s dreams ever since.  
  
“You’re one of my top fighters,” Lena says, and she’s proud of how clear her voice sounds. “I have to take care of the merchandise.”  
  
This makes Kara laugh, and that joyous sound she’s caused makes a deep rumble echo through Lena’s chest.

“We’ve discussed this, Miss Luthor. I’m not your fighter.” 

Lena presses the antiseptic to her wound harder than she needs to, reveling a bit in the hiss Kara lets out.  
  
“Have we? I must have forgotten.” she drawls, rubbing harder against the wound.

The laugh Kara lets out at that is odd. Gruffer. Lena finally meets her eyes at the sound and_, oh_ – there’s that look again. The same look she’d given her the other night.  
  
_Am I your dog?_ she’d asked, with that look in her eyes. 

Kara’s hand falls atop her own where she’d left it pressed on her knee. She can feel the other woman’s gentle caress, her thumb tracing back and forth over Lena’s hand. Lena feels it, but all she can see is the look in Kara’s eyes. Another jolt, low in her stomach.

Lena clears her throat and moves to grab a bandage large enough to cover the scrape, though she’s surprised when Kara refuses to release her hand. She quirks an eyebrow at her, but the woman just smiles innocently, continuing to rub her thumb across her skin. Rather than yank her hand away, Lena finds herself reaching with her nondominant hand and stubbornly pulling the package out. She struggles for a moment to open it only for Kara to gently take it from her with a soft _here, let me._ She then takes the package to her mouth and tears it open with her teeth, never breaking eye contact all along.  
  
The warning sirens are going off in Lena’s brain but she’s too stubborn to respond. Instead she snatches it back from her with an agitated huff, peels the backing off with her fingernails, pulls their still joined hands away, and slaps it a little too hard against Kara’s knee.  
  
“There,” she says in agitation. “You’re healed.”

She moves to stand up only to be tugged forward by their shared connection, stumbling until her free hand lands on Kara’s thigh. Kara’s got her bracketed between her open legs, not closing to lock her in but still pressing against her sides.  
  
“Oh, thank you,” Kara says, voice dripping honey sweet, “however can I repay you?”

They’re going to kiss.  
Lena knows they are, can feel it with every fiber of her being.  
Kara’s going to pull her in and kiss her, and Lena’s going to kiss her back. 

Kara’s still got that grip on her hand, holding her there between her legs, and her eyes are so focused on Lena’s lips Lena almost feels a heat wave shooting from her eyes. Closer and closer they inch together, their noses bump and Lena can feel the sharp inhale of Kara’s breath against her lips, can feel the soft tremble as they finally meet for one soft, blessed moment.  
  
“Miss Luthor!” Someone calls from the hallway with a loud bang against the door. “Cops at the door!”  
  
As if a bucket of ice water was poured over her head Lena yanks away with a gasped _oh shit!_ and races out of the room, all thoughts of stupid Kara Danvers washed away in an instant as the reality of running a somewhat illegal organization sink in.  
  
Later, when she’s paid off the appropriate officers, she comes back to the room to find it empty, no sign of their unfortunate encounter beyond the torn packet still sat on the desk.  
  


* * *

  
She works late. She always works late, and most nights go with little excitement beyond that 3 A.M. coffee. Nights are the only times she’s ever truly alone in peace.

It’s nearly midnight when Lena hears unexpected movement through her office walls and briefly assumes the gym has rats. She then has a small laugh at the idea of _gym rats_, a joke she would never make in front of another, only for the bang of falling objects and quietly muttered cussing to tear her back to reality.

She unlocks the bottom drawer of her desk and pulls out her handgun.

There is not much of value in the gym itself other than a few thousand dollars’ worth of equipment. Nothing worth killing anyone over. But if they go beyond the gym gear, go back into the offices where her computers are, her backups and hard drives, - well.

That might be worth waving a gun around to protect.

She follows the sound of scuttling to a room tucked deep in the back, the same one she’d nearly kissed in earlier that day. Not the most valuable room by any means, at least.  
  
With a quiet breath, she kicks the door open and aims her weapon with a shouted_ hey fucker! _and the burglar lets out a sharp, feminine scream.

It’s Kara Danvers.  
Of fucking course it is. 

“Miss Luthor!” she says in a voice so high it could float a balloon. “I didn’t think you’d be here so late.” She’s hunched over the dirty towel bin looking like the guiltiest criminal alive. Lena lowers her gun.  
  
“I’m always here. Why are you here?” she asks skeptically. Kara flounders a bit, eyes dancing around the room. She jams her hand back into the bin.

“I left my lucky sweatband here earlier and I, I can’t fight without it.” She holds up a tube sock, then drops it quickly after a quick glance and picks up an overstretched wristband that almost certainly doesn’t belong to her. She’s pretty sure she wasn’t even wearing a sweatband when they were here before.

“You broke into my gym in the middle of the night for that?” Lena says slow, incredulous, one hand propped on her hip while the other hangs at her side holding the gun with a loose hold. Kara smiles wide and seems to have calmed enough to regain some of her composure.  
  
“I mean, it’s only fair after you broke into mine.”  
  
She speaks with a lot of confidence for someone who is not holding the gun in this exchange. It’s been a long day and Lena’s about had enough of this dance they’ve been doing. 

“Why are you here?” she asks, raising the gun to aim at her. “The truth, this time.”  
  
Kara stares at the gun for a moment before looking up at Lena with a small smirk.  
  
“I told you, Miss Luthor. I left something here that I couldn’t lose.” 

She steps towards her until her chest hits the gun, pushes a bit further until its digging into her shirt.  
  
_Remember Ace,_ Lex’s voice chimes in her mind, _never aim a gun at something you’re not willing to destroy._

“Why do you keep coming back?” Lena whispers. “Are you here for me?”

Kara grabs the gun with gentle fingers. Never looks away from Lena’s eyes as she pries it free of her grip and places it on a table nearby.  
  
“You’re not why I started fighting here, but it’d be a lie to say you’re not my favorite part.”  
  
Kara takes a step forward, Lena takes one back. They only go so far before her back hits the door. 

“You don’t know me,” she says, quiet.  
  
“I’d like to.”

She’s cocky now, pressing in close. Lena’s hands go up to her shoulders, grip into her shirt to hold her in place, hold her close but not too close. Kara’s forehead rests against her own. There’s no one in the building to interrupt this time.

Lena thinks _why not try fucking her?_ and lets her fingers drag up Kara’s neck and slide into her hair. She scratches against her scalp, pulling a quiet moan from the other woman. She can feel the way Kara shivers against her, feel her press her cheek against Lena’s. Kara lets out a rough breath against her ear, fast and short, and lets her hands grip at Lena’s waist. She scratches her nails across Kara’s scalp and her fingers lace through her hair until she has a solid handful. She closes her fist into a tight grip right at the roots and pulls hard.  
  
Kara’s head falls back and she moans in a desperate keen. Lena feels her back hit the wall with a sharp thud, though her gasp of surprise is swallowed quickly by Kara’s hot, wet mouth. It’s wrong, this is so wrong and she absolutely should not be doing it, but the slide of Kara’s lips against her own is clouding her head too much to even consider stopping and really all she can think is _fucking finally.  
_

Kara bites Lena’s lip and Lena tugs hard at her hair again. They both moan into each other’s mouths. Lena can feel Kara tugging at her top, pulling it from where it’s tucked in to her suit pants, and she’s hit with a desperate need for them to touch skin-to-skin. She moves to pull at Kara’s shirt but the motion jolts them both into the door again, harder, and shakes the wall.  
  
A shattering sound pulls them out of their fog and each other’s embrace.

They shook the wall shelf, apparently, and knocked off its main occupant.  
  
“How fitting,” Lena mumbles in a still breathy voice.  
  
There, shattered in to three pieces, is the Best Sister Award Lex had given her all those months ago.  
  
“Fuck,” Kara whispers. “I’m sorry about that.”

Lena comes back to herself then with a sharp clarity. She shrugs out of Kara’s grip, pulling the other woman’s hands from where they’d settled on her bare torso. With a firm push she moves Kara away from her, causing the other woman to step back sheepishly.  
  
God, Lena has really fucked up. She closes her eyes in frustration, her head falling back against the door.

“Hey,” Kara says, and for a terrifying moment Lena thinks they’re about to have some sort of heart-to-heart, but when she opens her eyes Kara is looking at the broken trophy. “What’s that?”

Lena looks at the plastic shards searchingly, but it takes her a moment to spot what Kara sees.  
  
When she does all she can do is laugh in disappointment. She moves past Kara and squats to scoop up the small black device that had been hidden in the trophy's base.  
  
“Of course,” she says, examining it in her hand. “Lex would never just do something nice.”  
  
Kara squats beside her like they’re two kids examining an anthill.  
  
“What is it?” she asks, and Lena just shakes her head in anger. Clicks the flash drive open and shut in her palm.  
  
“It’s his black book."  


* * *

  
They end up hunched over Lena's desktop computer trying to make the damn thing open. The flash-drive is encrypted because of course it is, and Lex had clearly worked hard to make it impossible to open. Luckily, Lena knows technology and she knows her brother. Her cracking this is an inevitability. Still, Kara keeps nervously fluttering about, her hands clenching and her eyes looking like she thinks Lex himself will come popping in at any moment.

"You know," she says, has been saying for the last hour, "I have a friend who could open this no problem. He's really good at tech stuff. We call him Brainy cause he's so good at this stuff." She's so nervous, so much more nervous than Lena's ever seen, and if she were not so focused on solving her stupid brother's mystery she might take note of that. "He works with us at the DE- at CatCo, where I work." Lena wonders if there might be a password she's missing, some secret back entrance she can use to get the data. "He's- he's real fast at this kind of stuff, he could have it open lickity split! Yikes, sorry I just said that. I just think maybe that-" 

"Kara," she cuts in, still not looking up from her keyboard. Kara goes silent instantly. "I've got it. Really."

Still, for the next three hours Kara tries very, very hard to get her to give it to her, to let her take it to this Brainy to open, but she refuses. This is Lex's book, which makes this Lena's problem. It's nearly four in the morning when she finally convinces Kara to leave. That in itself is an accomplishment; Kara looks about ready to carry her off with her. 

She gets another hour of work done before her head starts to lull and her hands slur across the keyboard. _Just a quick nap and I'll be good,_ she thinks, and lays her head on the table. 

She wakes some time later to a figure looming above her.

She has enough time to shout out in surprise before she's struck across the head and everything fades to black.  
  


* * *

Consciousness slips in in slow, aching bursts.  
  
It’s dark but she knows she’s sitting at a desk – the same one she'd been at earlier, she realizes, as thoughts take shape in the chaotic sludge. Her eyes feel black, her head like it’s caving in. It’s too hot, she feels like she’s melting, and it takes her a few precious seconds to realize her eyes aren’t just struggling to adjust to wakefulness – the room is actually black with smoke.  
  
Through the windows of the office she can see the rest of the warehouse, the fight ring and audience stands.

The building is on fire.

Lena stumbles to her feet, knocking the chair over in her haste, but quickly doubles over in a coughing fit as she breathes in the toxic air. She drops to her knees and crawls towards the sliver of light shining beneath her door, a slow breathless journey that takes hours and seconds all at once. She tugs her sleeve down over her palm and just barely presses it against the door knob. Thankfully, it’s cool. Wherever the fire is, it doesn’t seem to be on the other side of the door.

She tugs the handle down and pushes but it barely moves an inch. She presses herself against it, using as much force as she can from her position on the ground, but it stays unmoved. She shoves her face down against the floor to peer underneath and sees the bulking shape of something indistinguishable blocking her in.

Taking a deep breath beneath the smoke line, she pulls herself up to stand and try again, pushing with all her might. It moves just the barest bit, just enough for her to stick her fingers out into the blessedly cool hallway, but still the object is unmovable.

Crawling still, she goes to the chair, scoops it up with her fast fading strength, and hurls it at the nearest window. It barely causes a crack, and the action depleted what little strength and oxygen she still had. She collapses to the ground in another coughing fit. Most people who die in fires, she recalls, die from smoke inhalation. 

Lena realizes she’s going to die today.

She slumps back down, coughing against the ever-thickening smoke, and presses her face at the underside of the door.  
  
“Help!” she calls, “somebody!” 

She can’t imagine anyone will hear her.  
  
Things begin to fade after that. She thinks about her business, how close she was to actually achieving something great. Thinks of Lex, how he might react when he learns of her death. Thinks of Kara.

“Miss Luthor?” she hears a voice call in the distance. “Lena?! Lena, are you here?!” 

She blinks back into awareness. The room is red now, the glare of fire too bright.  
  
Someone is looking for her.  
  
“In here,” she tries, but her throat is dry and hot and she can barely manage a squeak. She sticks her fingers back out through the space between the wall and door that she’d forced before and wiggles them, coughing.  
  
To her amazement, something grabs hold of her fingertips.  
  
“I’m here. I’m here, Lena,” Kara is saying. Kara is there, Kara is holding her hand and Kara is pushing at the weight blocking her door and Lena is so very confused. Why is she here? 

Something explodes in the distance, parts of the ceiling are collapsing in the warehouse, and somehow Kara is here.

Amazingly, the object moves. The door opens and Lena is hit with a blast of cool air so sharp it burns her lungs in a new and wonderful way, and Kara Danvers is crouching over her, backlit and beautiful.  
  
“I’ve got you,” she says, and pulls Lena into her arms.  
  


* * *

  
"I left my other sweatband," Kara says as answer for why she came back to the office. "I saw the building was on fire, and I figured you'd still be in there working on the drive."  
  
If Lena had a clearer head, she might delve deeper into those half-truths. She might ask the real reason Kara Danvers came back, if she ever even left. If she might have seen who set the fire.  
  
But her head is not clear, and her building is a smoldering mess, so all she does is touch Kara's arm and say thank you.  
  
They let her walk through the wreckage once everything has cooled. It's nearly unrecognizable in its charred demise. She meanders down the hall to her office. She sees the filing cabinet that had been shoved against her door to keep her inside. She steps in and sees the entire room covered in ash, her computer melted beyond repair. A quick glance shows her what she suspected - the flash-drive is gone. Whoever did this got what they wanted.

Wedged under her desk she finds the shredded remains of her leather purse which practically turns to ash in her hands. She scoops up all the loose items she’d been carrying in it and tosses them on the desk only to pause as she notices something strange – a plastic pen had popped open from the heat, and its innards had spilled out. Stained in the ink is a small electrical device that had been burnt out almost completely.

Even still, she knows enough to recognize it for what it is – a listening device.

Someone was spying on her.

She grabs the pen’s body and much of it is melted, but she can still make out just enough to read the logo imprinted on the side. 

_Roulette Enterprises._

“Well, fuck.”


End file.
